Angels Around Us
by But a Chance
Summary: 8th story in the Nick songfic challenge found on CSIfiles site. The song was "Angel" by Sarah Mc Lachlan. Hope you enjoy reading it.


**Disclaimer:** The characters of this story are the sole property of CSI and its subsidiaries…I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

**Summary:** This story is for the 8th Nick songfic challenge found on the CSIfiles site. The song was "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan (lyrics can be found at end of the story.) The title of the story sums up what it's about.

**Angels Around Us**

Angels are always round us. They come in different shapes and sizes, they're every color of the rainbow, they're all ages, and genders. Some are from this world, while others are empyrean. Some are lost souls searching for redemption, while others were always ethereal. Some are mortal angels who stand by us in the trying times, and guide us when we lose our way. All of these angels watch over us in one form or another.

But, few speak of the dark angel.

The dark angel knocks on your door when you least expect it. The dark angel takes you on a journey through your past. The dark angel determines your outcome…life…death…eternal bliss…limbo…or endless days with the damned.

In his time on earth Nick Stokes spoke to the ethereal angels, and pleaded with his earth bound angels. But, tonight…tonight was different.

* * *

The grave yard shift gathered in the conference room for the night's assignments, Catherine entered as the group settled in.

"Greg, you have a 419 on 2466 Desert Mist. Vega said it looks like a domestic fight that escaladed. You know how domestics can take a bad turn so be careful." Greg agreed, picked up his assignment slip, and headed to his call.

"Sara, Ray, you guys have several B&E's at the Palms. They're reporting someone breaking into room, and cleaning out guest valuables. Their security hasn't located a suspect, and they're asking for our help. I'm sending Archie with you; he can look at the surveillance feeds, and see if Palms security missed something."

"Hey Sar, remember Slick Willy and the card key scanner?" Nick asked. Sara returned a questioning look.

"Remember the cbp movie star case? Slick Willy was in the room while movie-boy was having fun with the wannabe." Nick explained. Sara referenced past case logs in her mind, remembered, and nodded her acknowledgement.

"Have Archie check the videos for a Slick Willy type. They have to be getting into the rooms someway?" Nick explained.

"I forgot about that case…thanks Nick." Sara replied, while Ray looked perplexed. She alleviated his questions with a brief history of the case as they too headed out.

"That leaves you and me, Nicky. We have a 419 at the Tumbleweed Hotel on 14th street and Freemont." Catherine said.

"What luck, you know you didn't have to save this one for us. You could cut us a break, throw a softball our way every now and then."

"Sorry Nick, but I thought we should send the best to this crime scene."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, but you still owe us a few softballs after this."

"Brass begged us to take this one, and I couldn't refuse his sad tone. You know how much he hates being in the hood without you and me." Catherine half joked.

Nick rolled his eyes at Catherine's comment, gathered his files, and said he'd meet her at the SUV in five.

* * *

Nick and Catherine rolled into the parking lot of the Tumbleweed and met up with Jim Brass, who filled them in on the case.

"We have a male DB, one Samuel Beaufort. No wants or warrants, in fact, no criminal background at all. One of the guests, a Dixie Banning, says Mr. Beaufort moved here about three months ago from Ohio. She and Sammy became real friendly, but not in the way you think, according to her. She said Sammy was a good guy, he never asked for her services. He was just lonely and needed someone to talk to." Brass raised doubtful brows, Catherine and Nick didn't respond.

"Anyway, he lost his job back in Ohio, and his wife and kids. Dixie said he was just another down on his luck guy looking for a fresh start. Of course, she didn't hear or see anything when dear Sammy was murdered." Brass explained.

"They all think they'll come out here and hit it big. He should have stayed home, found whatever job he could, and worked it out with his wife." Catherine said disgustedly.

"It doesn't always work that way, sometimes you spend your life waiting for a second chance, a break to make everything okay. Day after day you fight to stay above water, work to make ends meet, but it goes from bad to worse before ya know what happened." Nick empathized.

"That's a noble thought Nicky, but a real man wouldn't leave his wife and kids behind, he'd keep fighting for them, and he'd keep his family together. Eddie was always looking for the next big hit, and that turned out well…didn't it? Warrick always thought he could beat the odds, push the envelope, but it bit him in the ass and for what…for what Nicky? To prove he was right? Meanwhile, his son is without a father. You go ahead and feel sorry for Beaufort, but he was doing something wrong or otherwise he wouldn't have ended up in a dump like this…dead." Catherine seethed.

Nick stared at Catherine for a moment, but didn't reply to her remarks. He knew Eddie and Warrick's deaths hurt her beyond words, and he knew she still grieved both men. He wasn't trying to defend Beaufort, hell he didn't even know the guy. But, the circumstances that brought Sam Beaufort to Las Vegas were just that, circumstances. Until the evidence proved wrong doing Nick would withhold judgment.

"I'll work the perimeter; you deal with the room and the decedent." Catherine flared. Nick nodded his ok, and walked to the entrance of the shabby room.

Stokes' internal dialog was looking ahead to the end of shift. "As soon as this night's over, I'm going paragliding and blowing off some steam. I need a distraction, a moment's release, because the memories are seeping into my veins tonight, memories I don't want. I want to be empty…empty and weightless." Nick prayed.

Crossing under the tape, Nick Stokes set out to do what crime scene investigators do everyday, collect the evidence, analyze it, and pray the case didn't turn cold. David Phillips was finishing up examining the victim when Nick entered the dingy hotel room with a scowl on his face.

"Hey Nick…are you ok?" David asked when he noticed Nick's scowl.

"Huh…oh yeah Super Dave, I'm fine." Nick passed it off, and began taking photos of the body and the surrounding area.

"I'm almost finished here. Time of death was about two hours ago, and it looks like two gsw's, both were to the chest. Are you ready to roll the body?" David asked. Nick nodded yes, and they rolled Sam Beaufort lifeless form.

David examined the victims back. "We have through and through's, and judging by the entrance wounds, it was close range. There's gun shot residue on his shirt, and on the entrance wounds."

"Give me your best guess, how close?" Nick questioned as he and David rolled the body back over.

"Two feet, maybe less, I'll check trajectory when I get him back to the morgue and let you know."

"My guess, this wasn't random. You don't get that close unless it's personal. Who the hell did you piss off Beaufort?" Nick conjectured while he took more photos.

"Nick, if you're finished with the body, we'll go ahead and remove it?"

"That's fine Super Dave, thanks, and good work." Nick offered, and David returned a smiled.

* * *

Nick snapped a few more photos, did tape lifts and swabs of the bedding, and fingerprinted the nightstand, bathroom, and doors. Next he pulled out his Mag-lite and began searching for the shell casings, and bullet fragments.

Nick found the first casing under the edge of the bed, hidden slightly by the edge of a raggedy blanket hanging over. He gathered and bagged it, and began searching for the next casing. This one was to the right, but further beneath the bed. Setting his Mag-lite on the floor, to illuminate the area, he stretched out on his stomach to reach it. His tweezers just clamped onto the casing when the door to the adjoining room burst open.

Nick reacted quickly, and turned onto his side. He reached for his side arm, but was a moment too late…

* * *

Outside the Tumbleweed, Catherine crouched down to collect a shred of cloth, hopefully evidence which might prove helpful. Uniformed officers lounged against squad cars, waiting for Supervisors Willows and Stokes to finish. Jim Brass was near the check-in office, interviewing guest of the hotel, and trying to piece together Sam Beaufort's murder.

Everything on scene was quiet…until the unmistakable crack of gunfire shattered the stillness of the night. Gunshots from a room, long cleared of impending trouble.

Catherine rose from her crouched position. "Nicky!" she yelled as she ran. Jim Brass dropped his notepad and pen, un-holstered his side arm, and began running. "Stokes…Stokes…We're coming in!" The waiting uniformed officers, who moments earlier lounged, now rushed to aid of one of their own.

* * *

Nick Stokes laid upon the stained and dirty carpeting of room 106 of the Tumbleweed Hotel. His chest and insides burned as if scorched with a hot branding iron. He knew he'd been shot, but the realization escaped him at the moment. He heard yelling, but couldn't make out what was said. An anonymous foot kicked his side, causing him to roll over fully on his back, the voice became clear.

"I told you to leave my girl alone, I told you! I thought I got rid of you!" The anonymous male screamed.

"Not Beaufort." Nick gasped. "I'm with…crime lab." He coughed out.

The anonymous man looked down at Nick and tilted his head. His drug infused mind didn't understand and didn't care. He walked away through the adjoining room door, and closed it behind him.

Nick gasped for air that wouldn't come, pain seared his insides. He looked up at the begrimed ceiling, in search of the warm comforting essences he always found hovering around him in desperate moments. He wanted to be embraced in soft solace, to fly away from this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness he feared. But, the angels weren't answering…not the ethereal ones, nor the lost souls, or his mortal guides.

Darkness lurked, poised in macabre anticipation, waiting to engulf his soul. Nick could feel his life, his eternal hope, being sucked away. His hand slid off his chest, and into the stickiness spreading beneath him. Each stifled breath became a labor of misery. A rush of anger flooded his entire shelf, and his mind bellowed to the looming dark angel.

"Is this it, you fucking bastard? Is this the way it's going to be? No white light, no comfort, no warmth, nothing but endless obscurity. You really want to fuck with me one last time? Go ahead…do it!" Nick challenged.

"What…a Plexiglas coffin six feet under, fire ants, and explosives weren't good enough? Send me your worst, send me wherever, I've been to hell, more than once…it won't be new." Nick took another labored breath.

"I tried to follow the straight line, own up to my mistakes, do what's right, be the man, but the tempest keeps throwing me against the rocks and the storm keeps on twisting. It won't make a difference if I escape one last time, because the sweet madness, the glorious sadness will only bring to my knees once more…and you'll be waiting again." Nick lamented.

* * *

Suddenly, loud abrasive noise pulled Nick back from his scathing condemnations of the dark spirit. The room filled with a battalion of officers, all coming to his aid. Jim Brass yelled orders to his crew, and rushed to Nick's side.

"We gotcha, we gotcha Nicky, its ok." Jim comforted, as he slid down to Nick's side.

Nick lifted and turned his head. "In…next room…armed." He strained to get out.

Brass followed Nick's line of sight, and saw the door to the adjoining room. He cursed himself for not making sure the room was cleared earlier. Jim sent officers to apprehend the shooter, three to the adjoining door, and two out to the front entrance. Officer Mitchell pulled the barely hanging first door open, and kicked in the second. Shots rung out once more, moments later the all clear was given, the suspect was down.

Catherine couldn't wait outside any longer, and rushed into the room. She gasped at the sight of her Nicky lying on the floor, crimson life seeping into the bedraggled carpeting beneath, she ran to his side.

"Oh God, Nicky. Stay with me, you hear me. Paramedics are almost here." Catherine tried to calm, her tone soothing. Her hand gently caressed his face, as she shifted and raised his head to cradle in her lap. Stokes gave a pained filled nod, and tried to move.

"Shhh. Its ok, don't move, you just stay with me sweetie…just stay with me. Catherine comforted. Comments made, less than an hour ago, weighed heavily upon her.

Nick looked into her eyes for reassurance, and then his gaze strayed, drawn to something slightly over her left shoulder. A smile graced his pain stricken features.

Catherine was confused by his reaction, and turned to see who or what Nick was smiling at, but she saw nothing. She returned her eyes to him, and watch in befuddled fascination as he nodded his head. Was someone talking to him? Someone she couldn't see? Someone from beyond? If only she could be privy to this interaction, Catherine thought.

* * *

"Hey bro, it's going to be ok, don't worry, you're going to make it. I brought the angels to you, and you're in their arms now. The angels are going to fly us away from here. We're going leave this hotel room, and the endlessness you're fearing. I'm going to make sure the angels keep you safe. You're not alone Nicky, you'll find comfort with us."

Nick smiled and nodded his head. The sweet soothing voice of his friend was an elixir to his frantic mind, and battle damaged body.

"The paramedics will be here any second, don't be afraid, I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying with you."

"Thank you…I miss you." Nick faintly whispered.

"I'm always with you Nicky…I'm always with you."

* * *

"Thank you…I miss you." Nick faintly whispered.

"I'm right here Nicky, Jim's right here, we not going anywhere." Catherine whispered into his ear.

"It's…its ok…Rick has me." Nick slurred as he lost his battle, and his eyes fell closed.

"Don't do this, don't you fucking do this!" Jim yelled. He felt Nick's neck for a pulse, and released a held breath when he found its unsteady beat.

"Did he say what I think he said?" Jim questioned.

"He said its ok, Rick has him." Catherine replied in awe.

"My God, do you think…" Jim began, but didn't finish the thought.

Jim and Catherine stared down at Nick, and held onto him tighter. Catherine cradled Nick's head in her lap, her tears fell onto his cheeks as she leaned down to kiss his forehead. Jim squeezed Nick's hand with all his strength. They felt a calm come over them, so peaceful, so warm, so beautiful, and in that moment they knew everything would be alright. They stared into each others tear filled eyes and smiled.

* * *

"Yes, friends…my dear family, the angels are around us. I'll make sure they're always with you, especially when you need them most. I'll guide them to you, they're never far away." Warrick tenderly whispered.

**Epilogue**

Weeks later, Nick, Catherine and Jim stood in the quiet tranquility of the First Baptist Cemetery. They came here this day to honor the memory of their friend…their brother. Catherine placed a beautiful bouquet of white roses in the vase by the headstone, and stepped back. Nick wrapped a comforting arm around her waist; she leaned into him, and reached for Jim's hand to pull him near.

The three stood arm and arm, wrapped in the warm embrace of friendship. They all lost so much through the years, but one constant always remained, they had each other…even the one who left this mortal strife.

The angels smiled down upon them, for no greater love could be found than that of a friend.

"Angel" by Sarah McLachlan

Spend all your time waiting  
For that second chance  
For a break that would make it okay  
There's always one reason  
To feel not good enough  
And its hard at the end of the day  
I need some distraction  
Oh beautiful release  
Memory seeps from my veins  
Let me be empty  
And weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there

So tired of the straight line  
And everywhere you turn  
There's vultures and thieves at your back  
And the storm keeps on twisting  
You keep on building the lie  
That you make up for all that you lack  
It don't make no difference  
Escaping one last time  
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh  
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here


End file.
